Remember blogging about Southeast Asia?

The entire purpose of blogging about one's insane trip to Asia is to remember all of the fascinating details that always slip too easily and quickly from memory.
Unfortunately, (apparently sometime in April), "real" life took over again and thoughts of the exotic winter month experience were pushed aside for auditions, babysitting, dog, performances, workshops, classes, meetings, greetings, etc.
Chicago is finally beginning to consistently offer sunshine and warm climate in which to thrive out in the world.

But the memory flashes of living a full month in a whole different world (and the same two shirts, one pair of pants or one skirt for 37 straight, filthy days) suddenly pull me into a pensive state of attempting to piece back all of the strange bits of daily stories.

If anyone was following this blog (around six months ago) I'm sure they've long gotten over reading the rest of the little details of the events of 1/11-2/17.. Except for PJ & Pa, who adorably still wonder when this blog mulling over the little moments will return.
She's back! Let's hope to find the time to sit and remember soon enough to get it all down before the best bits slip away.

So -- we were right around Phnom Penh, Cambodia:

The morning we awoke to take the bus from Saigon (quite eager to vacate the bug/bat/sex worker infested hotel... they seemed surprised when we arrived at night and innocently had no lady with us and wanted to pay for a "full night" at this shockingly available spot in the center of town).. we walked to find a quick breakfast for our first and last morning in Ho Chi Minh City. Unfortunately, KG discovered Mexican inspired breakfast isn't as delicious in Asia.


We boarded our bus and were on our way out of the country, feeling quite ready for a new one after the 36 hour bus journey south to the exit the day before.
After reading so many horror stories on other backpacker's blogs about passport/visa/money scams, it was a little terrifying to watch the bus worker man approach each passenger and ask for their passport and the money required for purchasing a visa (KG and I already had our e-visas purchased, so we handed over our documents and sweat, hoping for the best). The bus company seemed clean and professional (with water bottles at every seat, with their company name on the label) 

Thankfully, departing Vietnam customs and entering through the Cambodian side went smoothly for all passengers, and no passports were ran away with. Also, while waiting for the last of the passengers to get through and re-board the bus, we bought our first sugarcane juice from a couple who had set up shop in the parking lot. Tasty.

I remember the bus journey taking longer than warned, which was what we'd come to expect by now.
When we took a break at our first bus stop, we were swarmed with a group of beggars. I gave the woman with the baby some of my Vietnamese dong, and the shock and gratitude was prominent on all of their faces. The annoyance was evident on the faces of the other locals and the bus driver. Cambodia is the poorest country we went to, and there were often beggars -- we quickly noticed that they were frequently women with children they forced to lay on the ground and feign illness.

Out the bus window, we saw how much of the countryside has fallen victim to "flash farming", where the farmer burns the ground to somehow increase farming potential. A lot of the tropical beauty is pretty barren, but it the stilt houses and countryside are still lovely and fascinating. (One of the unfortunate situations the constantly barren ground offered was no cover for the ladies on the bus to take advantage of -- the gents were able to ask the driver to pull over for a pit stop, and as they're able to keep their pants up, all bus passengers only had opportunity to stare at their backs as the local cows came for over a sniff....)

We'd also been advised to sample the fried tarantulas popular in more rural parts of Cambodia, and we got our first glimpse of a table piled high with the delicacy. Though tempted by the adventurous idea of chomping on a tarantula leg, it didn't seem right for this to happen at a bus stop with at least two hours of bus travel left. Sadly, we never saw another such table NOT at a bus stop. So no tarantula legs were chomped on during the course of the trip. (Though stay tuned -- if we make it all the way to the last night in Bangkok, you may just read about some variety of icky leg chomping!)

When we arrived in Phnom Penh (the central market) we were swarmed once more, this time with tuk-tuk men. After our first traumatic tuk-tuk experience, we were quite eager to explore by our own feet. We found one of the recommended hotels (a nice place with bathroom, big comfy bed, tv, closet, nearby hallway balcony -- less than $15 a night) then ventured out to explore the city. It was already dark, and we'd heard the city wasn't to be trifled with, so we locked our passports etc. in the safe at the front desk. (Sadly, our initial loss in the early Bangkok scam, a wallet fell out of a bag on the bus... full of a second sum of lost money. Not near as much as the first, but every bit hurts when you are living such a frugal life as to settle for a $6 room with a bat.)

We walked until we found what looked like a cafe, near the river. There was a dapper french man and a few beautiful women chatting in the patio seats. Laughing, being fabulous. We awkwardly stood around in front of them, hoping they'd invite us into the dark cafe. "Em.. Can wee 'elp yew?" We explained we had only Vietnamese Dong and wished to somehow purchase a Cambodian dinner. The intimidating french cafe owner called over to Western Union on his cell and told us to hurry back with the cash and they'd fix us a meal. We hurried away from the downward over-the-nose glances from the ethnically ambiguous super models at his table and told ourselves we'd take their directions to Western Union, then take our business somewhere less frightening.

We sneakily ate at the delightful classy restaurant around the corner, out in the open air a bit with the (now constant and comforting) company of geckos slithering about the walls all around. We ate Fish Amok, Cambodian specialty (by now realizing Cambodian cuisine to be a bit more exciting than the more bland Vietnamese food)... it was delicious, though the picking the bones out of the mouth thing is not my favorite.

The next morning we had only one plan: to walk to Tuol Sleng. We left the hotel in the morning and started the sunny, beautiful walk towards the intense and horrific prison.
It was one of the most disturbing, touching, emotional, educational experiences I've ever had.

The prison is kept exactly as the Khmer Rouge left it, each torture room still containing the torture instruments left on the beds. The Vietnamese photographed the bodies the Rouge left behind, and placed each picture on the wall behind the bed.

After Tuol Sleng, we agreed we didn't need to continue on with our potential plans to The Killing Fields. We took in the mornings events at the Bodhi Tree Cafe directly across the street from the old school turned Prison. It was quaint and beautiful, an interesting transition from the dark building feet away.

After a sandwich and Amok, we were prepared to walk the city back toward the hotel. Walking to Tuol Sleng, taking it in, then walking back... it felt more than sufficient for the day.
It was one of the most memorable and moving days of the entire trip, and of my life.

On the walk back, we took in an "American" tuk-tuk, the Cambodian driver grinned with American Pride as he noticed us photographing his ride.
















We also took pause at these scenic locations on the walk:

Phnom Penh was quite a city. It has such a tragic past, and though they preserve the remnants lest we ever forget the horror that took place, the surrounding city is filled with beauty and charm. The above statue is honoring the Vietnamese soldiers that liberated Cambodians from the Khmer Rouge.


Of all the cities we visited, I would say Phnom Penh may very well be my favorite.
We ended our (full and momentous) day with a pitcher of the local beer, sipping on a balcony overlooking the river. This day certainly stands out as one of the best.

South towards Saigon

Our 32 hour bus trip south brought us the sun and some lovely views:

Our first bus brought us back to Hoi An - we waited in a hotel lobby until a man on a motorbike had a group of us follow him through the streets to a different location. There we were picked up by our sleeper, around 10 minutes later. After being on a bus all afternoon, we we were starving. Even after 2 weeks of it, oh how I longed for some noodles or rice.

We found our sleeping spots, (a much less strenuous event than it had been previously) and got settled in. I woke up when the bus came to a stop something around 5 hours later. I sat up and turned to Kevin. "Uuung? Food here?" After a few minutes of existing in a confused zombie state, we stumbled into the Asian night.
We were at a large rest stop. We ordered a plate of fried rice, worried we wouldn't have time to each finish a meal before the bus rolled away. We scarfed it so quickly, I began to realize how hungry I was  -- and how much longer I'd be on a bus. I ordered myself some noodles. As I waited, I noticed the diminishing number of bus passengers at the tables. I started to get a bit nervous, but I was hungry and I'd payed... so I'd wait.

...Then came the bus honk, just as the young lady ran my noodles (soup, as it turned out) over to me.

The Restaurant Man came over to me and rested his hand on my shoulder, seating me back in my chair.
"It is ok. Eat. Eat. I know bus. He wait. Eat."
I awkwardly began to chop stick the noodles into oblivion and told Kevin to run to the bus and I'd be right behind. After my first large swallow I set it down, said thank you and stood to go. Again, I was pressed down.
"No, no. It's ok. Finish. Eat. Relax. It's ok!"
I sat back down politely and chugged the broth.
That's when I noticed it. Maybe not? Yep. Definitely. That bus is definitely moving. Rolling out of the station, as it were. Wouldn't that be an interesting and authentic adventure? To work at the family owned rest stop cafeteria in Goodness-Knows-Where-Asia? I thought it over only briefly as I pushed past the man, "Thank you!!" and saw how amused he was watching me frantically chase after the bus. He was having himself a good laugh. And who could blame him, I must have looked quite silly. I jumped into the open door and onto the slowly moving bus. Back to "bed" it is.....

 When we arrived at the next stop, (Nha Trang, sometime around 11am?) we were told to get off and hop on the next sleeper bus. We were groggy, sore and confused. Something dawned on my traveling companion. His face dropped: "The guy on that bus took our ticket -- I didn't know we needed it for a third bus." Oh. Hm... that should be fine. They must know what they're doing. They'll usher us where our ticket told them we were headed.

Oh, look! There's the Third Bus Man. He seems a bit unfriendly, but that's neither here nor there! Let's get going.
"Hello! We are going to Saigon, but the man on our last bus took the receipt."
"No! Only two people from that bus go to Saigon! I already have them, here and here! Impossible." "................"
"NO! Get away - I am very busy!"

Panic. The bus is gearing up to go.
"We are supposed to be on this bus..."
"IMPOSSIBLE! No receipt, no bus. Go away!!"
Cue Kevin finding his receipt. Safe.

In the beds at the back sat 4 young Australian birds, and a young British guy and gal. The Bus Man boarded and began to yell at... not us! The Aussies in the back.
"You didn't confirm tickets yesterday! You needed to confirm! Off the bus!"
"....we didn't know. Please -- we have a flight to catch!"
"No! Off the bus NOW."
"...We can't! Is it full?" It wasn't. "You can only stay if you give 100,000 Dong. Each."
"Oh. Ok." They did. (100,000 dong = $5).

As it turned out, the last leg of the journey only included these four gals and the british two-some. They all ended up having a back-of-the-bus-party and becoming great friends.  Kevin and I stayed in the front alone, listening in on their fun until we realized there was no other option. Then we didn't want to listen anymore. I got out the earplugs, but it was impossible to ignore the loud chatter.
I got to hear all about the "super rad Russian couple, they were, like, so old but so like, beautiful, you know? Anyway, on the island they gave us acid coconuts and we all like, tripped balls together! Cheers to that!"
And
"Aw gawd, Aussie boys give us such a bad rep. Everyone we meet is like: 'Ugh, why do Australian boys just get drunk and stupid all the time?' And they are so annoying. Anyway, last night I got so drunk I ..." Etc.

As we rolled down the Saigon streets the accent section of the bus made a date with each other for dinner as I mentally made a date with a shower. We went directly to the first unoccupied budget guest house.

As it turned out, this guest house was occupied by hookers&Johns (spoken to the desk boy: "Now listen up, I won't pay with her if I don't like the looks of her!"), many ants, and an intimidating flighty bat.

 We enjoyed one night of street walking to see all the street walkers, offerings of scandalous products we politely declined, and hotel bat dodging adventures. Then the bus to Phnom Penh, Cambodia.

Hoi An.... and back to Hue...

January 23-29, 2011.
Ah, the middle point of the adventure.

We made it to Hoi An around January 23rd.....the days there were all fabulously charming and relaxing.

The four days we spent drinking lattes and strolling the picturesque streets all run together. I suppose one remembers angry sleeping men on buses with more detail. Nevertheless, we were ready for an adorable little haven like Hoi An, and some much needed delicious (non-instant!!) coffee couldn't have (finally) come at a better time.

You get "trapped" with all of the other tourists... and yes, even I succumbed to the pressure of the 1,385 custom tailor shops (that number is one I've just made up). That latte perked me up and made me feel like buying a little something perty just for me. (I accidentally got a slightly lower price for a dress of much less quality, but I'll blame the language barrier..) We discussed the possibility of skipping Laos and seeing the rest of southern Vietnam so we didn't have to make the same bus trip back where we came from, Hue. On a trip this long (and sometimes arduous) you never look forward to feeling like you're moving backwards as opposed to continuing on your path.

We decided we'd relaxed at riverside restaurants with 30 cent beers enough nights, and we were looking forward to all of the adventures we were sure to find in Laos.

So we hopped back on the loud yellow honking bus to Hue.

And when we finally arrived in Hue.. (6 hours later?) it was still raining. Much more heavily. And it was dark. And they'd decided not to take us to town, but to the confusingly located bus station where the Hotel pushers were waiting for us with free minibus rides to their "best price!" location.

After stepping in 3 separate ankle deep puddles, we hopped in a mysterious minibus with the most aggressive hotel salesman/woman. Thankfully, we ended up near where we wanted to be and the hotel room (though up 5 extremely long flights of stairs) was decent enough (American Idol marathon channel? So be it..)

After a chilly night under two blankets, (the room didn't get above a balmy 30 degrees..) we ventured into the rain to find the citadel.
It was a wet citadel experience:


Pretty neat. We walked through the emperor's forbidden purple palace (for a fee and no pictures allowed) where they showed a funny dvd of CGI re-enactments of events that took place there such as: an elephant killing a de-clawed tiger.

brr.

A Citadel Bat

We wandered this historic area, which was much larger than you'd think -- enclosed by two moats. Pretty cool.


We explored our fascinating surroundings... until we realized once your reach your threshold of cold and wet-ness, fascinating surroundings stop being fascinating. So we began the long, wet, cold trudge back to our American Idol marathon room.


We attempted to book our bus to Laos (which we heard would be the most difficult transit of all), and learned it only left every 3 days and was sold out for that day. We also learned we no longer had enough American dollars to buy our visas. Then we learned (after withdrawing 10 million dong and walking through the pouring rain for hours to 11 different banks around the city) "no one in the entire country" will ever exchange dong for dollars. So we felt a bit lost and trapped. Should we stay in rainy Hue for another 2 days with no guarantee of being able to purchase our Laos visa with dong? And even if we could, would we ever be able to exchange our millions of dong to riel or dollars in the part of Laos we were headed -- where we read there are ATMS or banks?

We decided to throw up our hands and give up on Laos. Quite the bummer. "Staying flexible" isn't always easy. The only other option was to travel south, to exit Vietnam into Cambodia before transit shut down for their New Year (TET).

The trains were all already sold out what with all the new year travelers. So we had to buy the next sleeper bus out. The first leg of the journey?
The same bus. Again. Third time. Right back to Hoi An. (We knew we shouldn't have left those perfectly steamed lattes).
Back in Hoi An, we'd wait 10 minutes & hop on the sleeper bus down to Nha Trang. We had to de-bus again and continue on the third bus all the way to Saigon.

In Hue, they predicted we'd arrive in 23 hours.
Stay tuned for details on the next 32 hours of my life - on to one night in Saigon...

Sleeper bus - No Hue

Instead of spending another night in our $15 room, we hopped on the 10:30pm sleeper bus to Hue for $22 each.

When we first boarded the sleeper bus, we were floored. We'd had no real clear idea of what a "sleeper bus" was, and we'd assumed something similar to a "normal bus"... with comfy reclining seats?
No.

We boarded the dark sleeper bus, full of passengers lying fast asleep in their sleeper beds. The Bus Man pointed frantically at our feet until we understood to "de-shoe". He then led us past all the sleeper beds... all the full sleeper beds. Finally we arrive at the back row. The only row. The only non-singular bed. Not only was it not singular, but five beds all snug up against one another.


The row was as followed: Sleeping Man Number One, up against the window, directly against him lay Sleeping Man Number Two. After that, there was half of the bed number 3 unoccupied, followed by the other half of bed 3, all of bed 4 and half of bed 5. All of this currently occupied by Large Angry Sleeping Man. Not only was he the largest man we'd seen in Asia, he was the only large man we'd seen in Asia.

He snored extremely loudly and intimidatingly.

The Bus Man informed us: "Two beds left. Sleep here." And promptly left us to deal with our 2 half seat predicaments. The Nearby Friendly (not quite sleeping) Man helped us to shake Large Angry Sleeping Man by the feet in order to ask him to scoot over slightly.

Nothing happened right away. We wiggled his feet again. Suddenly, the disastrous, hilarious and fantastical unfortunate-ness of the whole situation dawned on us, and we began the fitful frantic giggle fit of the insane.

Finally, Large Angry Sleeping Man, Awoke.

"Um... hahahaha.... sorry..... heh.... 2 of us? Here?" (Much gesticulation)

LASM: "Grrrrrr?"

"Uh.... 2 of us.... here...fit?"

LASM: "GRRRRRRRRRRRR!!! NO!"

And he promtly fell back to sleep. We tried to squeeze ourselves on either side of him, though this was quite impossible. I ended up squeezing myself into the smallest creature I could become, smashed between the man and the window. My traveling companion was somewhere on the other side of this massively frightening individual. Now alone in the darkness, the manic giggle fit returned. How miserably absurd my life felt at that moment.

Thankfully, The Nearby Friendly Man saw one passenger hop off the bus at some unknown location, and he assured me I must take the vacant bed. I did, and swiftly drifted off to sleep, alone in the dark, bumpy, dirty bus bed.

I woke up somewhere around dawn, realizing my traveling companion may not have slept much back in the unfortunate situation I'd left him the night before. The guilt set in, but what could I have done? We surely wouldn't all fit, and hopefully once I'd left, Large Angry Man eventually scooted a bit and took up the ample space I'd left him.

As we finally arrived to rainy Hue, I found Kevin's journey had been far more unpleasant than mine.
He did not sleep much on that sleeper. Lots of spooning.

We hopped off the bus to the expected hotel pushers and grumbled our way through the crowd down the street. We planned to head to Laos from Hue, but wanted to travel to Hoi An for a few days first. We yawned and groaned and figured (as we found the rainy gray weather unappealing) we could head straight to Hoi An and check out Hue on our way to Laos. We stopped at a restaurant with an intimidatingly friendly and desperate waitress at the aptly named "Friendly Restaurant". She stared at us as we ate with wide eyes and a poker face, unless we made direct eye contact or spoke to her, to which she'd respond with a wide, manic grin. She told us she'd sell us our bus to Hoi An, and there seemed to be very little we could do about it. We agreed on $5 each (a discount from the original price she offered, though we ended up hearing of people buying tickets as low as $2, ah well).

The bus picked us up from the restaurant within 3 hours of arriving in Hue, and after our 12 hour journey the night before, we were once again on our way.
Although the bus had the loudest and most frequently honked horn of all time, we were at least grateful it was not a sleeper, and no large angry men growled at us.

We said goodbye to Hue, looking forward to acquainting ourselves with it on a later day -- hopefully a less rainy one. Little did we know what was to come.... rain being one of the many misfortunes we'd encounter in Hue upon our return.

Ninh Binh? Almost done me in!

Oh, this place. So beautiful in the pictures, so tempting in the guidebooks. Yet..
It all started with the awkward 2 hour train ride, where we ran to the station as the whistle blew and attempted to board the wrong train car 4 times before the station men showed us the way. On the journey we sat across from two unfriendly young ladies, who wished we would stop existing so much that they attempted to believe we did.
There were also four hoodlums next to us who managed to sneak on sans a ticket, and were yelled at at great length by the conductor -- forcing them to pay and then giving them stools to sit on, as they snickered and guffawed. Train traveling characters are fun and understandable even beyond language barriers.
 Upon arriving at our stop we were screamed at in Vietnamese by the train man to leave and giggled at in Vietnamese giggles by everyone else, so we were already a bit shaken.
After blinking into perspective the dusty town, we were confronted with the following:
1.) An eerily silent street -- the first silence we'd encountered in Southeast Asia. Not a comforting silence.
2.) All of the dusty street kitchens had signs for: "THIT CHO", or: "DOG MEAT". There were many skittish dogs running frantically from street to street, some with battle wounds.

We weren't in Kansas anymore, Yoshi.

The dog pictured was so adorable, I had to disembark my bicylcle and call him over for a friendly hello. When he screamed and shook in fear, I realized it was safest to leave him with the inclination: "people will eat you. Don't trust them."
After wandering in circles near the train station, we didn't find any non looks-like-they'll-serve-you-as-dog-meat-instead-if-you-aren't-careful guesthouses. Finally we found the main highway that cuts through the town on the way to Hanoi. We found the familiar honking once more.  Sweet, sweet honking. At least it stopped being so unnaturally quiet.
We crossed over the highway and found the more bustling aspect of the city -- piles of litter and store upon store of folks that would stare you down to size as you walked by. Finally we found creepy upscale Thuy An Hotel. We rented bicycles and defied death down the highway to the village limestone cliffs and caves: "Tam Coc". There was an eerie blanket of thick Stephen King Fog settled over the entire village. Really. Really.

We biked to many icy stares from the few villagers in their front yards or on passing bicycles. Although, before we got to the center of the village, it was mostly silent and deserted.

We biked past the market, where goats and dogs were brought on the backs of motorbikes for slaughter. Eventually we made it to the end of the road, where there was a (once again eerie) temple on top of a mountain.

At the top of the mountain were amazing views, and a toothless man who gave me incense to present to Buddha and then hit me and made the universal sign for "money" (the rubbing of the thumb with the fingers, you know the one). I shook in my boots and gave him a dollar, to which he laughed maniacally whilst sniffing it and rubbing it on his face just to give me the willies.




Our second day, we rented our trusty bicycles, first asking: "Any chance you have any helmets we could rent along with these?" The man laughed at our silly fear.
We survived the road insanity once again and made our way to the infamous Tam Coc boat trip through the rice paddies. We payed admission, as well as a bike parking fee.


At the loading station, there was a chained monkey who disliked it there far more than we did. The neighborhood kids threw things at him which he hissed at in his misery, to the laughter of the adults.




The boat trip itself was a bit uncomfortable. Our rowing man insulted us in Vietnamese to the many other rowers (we knew from the pointing and laughter aimed in our direction.) Also, halfway through the journey (as happens to everyone who buys a boat) a woman hopped into our boat and made sneaky jokes with our rowing man. We were rowed to a boat full of snacks and beer and told, "you MUST buy your rowing man beer, for tip. Is Vietnamese culture. Must." So we sheepishly did. Then, our new female companion began to violently tap us both (as we attempted to take in the magnificent views) to show us her hand made items we "must buy." Since we "have much money!" After politely declining and being hit dozens more times to be shown the same options with no end in sight, we attempted to ignore their insults and pointy fingers. Before it could be over and we would be taken back to shore, we were told "You must give us tip! Two! One for each!" To which we reminded, "We bought the beer!" "No! More tip!" Eventually, they freed us. We apologized to the monkey for his hideous fate and bid him adieu.
We had hoped to bike back before sundown with our unprotected heads on the treacherous roads... but we were fated to journey through the village as the sky grew dark and life more ominous than ever before. When we finally reached the city area and the headlights lit our way a bit, we realized headlights don't help you see when they're coming straight for you from every direction. We turned down a back road, and I was quickly chased after and yelled at for riding my bike through fresh, wet concrete. I think the man attempted to throw me off my bike as punishment, but I remembered I had a worrying Mama back at home to think of and so peddled as if there were no tomorrow (which it seemed there may not be).

That night, we got the hell out of dodge and hopped on our first "sleeper bus" south. Our first of many...